


Spiral

by AshesToProveIt



Category: The Letter (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Romantic Relationship, but i had to veto most of her edits, introspective, luke just wants more booze, originally edited by my cat, sexual relationship discussed, spoilers for post-credits scenes, written at 3AM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 18:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12463206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesToProveIt/pseuds/AshesToProveIt
Summary: Years after the events at Ermengarde Mansion, Rebecca is in a sexual relationship with Luke Wright, of all people. After another night together, she reflects on what brought about this turn of events, and what it says about herself and her emotional state.





	Spiral

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, The Letter and the characters in it don’t belong to me. Still, it’s a great VN and I encourage people to try it if they like things heavy on emotional/character development. Can’t say how much of that you’ll find in this fic, which may possibly be the first chapter in an ongoing story.

The clouds hanging low over Luxbourne made it a struggle for the sunlight to filter in through the curtains in Rebecca Gales’ bedroom. Usually, she would be awake well before having to rely on natural light to alert her to what time it was – sleeping in wasn’t exactly her style- but this morning was an exception. Nude, but pulling the covers up over her body with one hand, she wiped the sleep from her eyes with the other and glanced at the clock. A little past nine, a little late for her tastes, although on this Saturday morning she had nowhere else to be so she allowed herself the indulgence.

Although to be honest, Rebecca had been at least partially awake for probably a good hour or so by now. Listening to the sounds coming from another part of her flat, the kitchen from the sounds of it, and vaguely hoping if she ignored them long enough, the source would leave. It seemed this particular Saturday morning wasn’t one for luxuries. She groaned and ran her free hand not covering herself up through her tangle of red hair, wondering if her current “house guest” would finally take the hint and leave without her having to engage him. She wasn’t sure what was worse: when he was gone when she woke up, or when he was still around.

Rebecca noticed the man’s clothing, strewn carelessly onto the floor the night before, had been folded and placed on her desk chair. Well, he had at least contemplated the idea of leaving. Or at least getting dressed. Or maybe he had done it after rendering her exhausted the night before, unable to stand the idea of his clothing being left to get wrinkled and sullied all night. She couldn’t be sure: once they had finished, she had been spent and had almost immediately fallen asleep.

“Bloody hell, woman!” Luke Wright finally snapped, striding into the room at last, naked as the day he was born and acting as if he owned the place. “You still don’t have a drop to drink in this place?”

Rebecca looked away from Luke quickly, using her other hand to make sure her modesty was more closely protected. “We’ve been over this, Luke,” she sighed. “I only usually drink in social settings. I don’t have a reason to keep anything here.” Well, other than enabling an alcoholic that had become a far too frequent visitor in her home as of late.

Luke seemed undeterred by her response, his tone accusing as if he believed she was hiding a magnificent stash of liquor from her. “You had that Drambuie in your freezer that one time,” he pointed out. “Honestly, in the freezer? If you’re not going to drink it, at least store it properly!”

“It was a gift. Almost a year ago,” Rebecca pointed out. “I already told you: I put it there because I didn’t know what else to do with it. And you finished that as soon as you found it months ago. Without asking.”

Without even having to look in his direction, Rebecca could just tell he was giving a dismissive wave. “It’s not as if you were going to drink it, Daisy. You said it yourself.” He leaned over to pick up his wristwatch from where he had left it on the bedside table. She really wished he would go for his clothing instead.

“The point is this is my home, not a bloody hotel! I don’t have a stocked mini bar for your convenience! If you have that much of a problem with my lack of alcohol, then get dressed, go to the store, and get some yourself!” Rebecca finally snapped at him. The worst part of this situation was the familiarity of it by this point, a song and dance they had engaged in so often by now it was almost like deja vu.

If someone had told Rebecca Gales almost half a decade ago, when she had met this obnoxious _bawbag_ , that she would be having some sort of affair with him one day, she would have laughed in their face and asked them if they had suffered recent head trauma. Even as soon as a year ago, as her relationship with Luke settled into something between tolerable acquaintanceship and awkward friendship, she wouldn’t have given the idea much merit. And yet here they were, in her flat, the evidence of what they had done the night before undeniable. And again, familiar.

“You didn’t seem to mind seeing me like this last night,” Luke pointed out, making a point of walking to the other side of the bed and likely getting a kick of how she looked the other way again. “And don’t try so hard to cover yourself up, I’ve seen plenty more of you than that.”

Rebecca released one hand from her covers long enough to pinch the bridge of her nose. She could feel the beginning of a headache, one that had the name _Luke Wright_ written all over it. “Just because we did… that… doesn’t mean I’m ready to throw all sense of decorum out the window when you’re around. Honestly, put your trousers on.”

Luke walked over to gather his clothing, but when she dared to glance his way, she could see he was smirking. He knew just what buttons to push, just how to get her fired up. And he enjoyed every moment of it. Then again, she knew how to push his as well. She was confident they wouldn’t have lasted this long, in whatever _this_ was, if he didn’t enjoy her ability to challenge him in that way.

“This isn’t your hideout, either,” she pointed out. “There are plenty of people in Luxbourne who would love to shoot you in your pretty face as soon as they see it, so if I were you, I wouldn’t force me to throw you out onto the street. With or without your clothes.”

That gave Luke momentary pause. For all he was supposed to be avoiding the city that he had fled following his divorce as he tried desperately to escape the law, his marriage, his old life, _everything_ ; he seemed to have an easy time strolling in like he still owned the place from time to time.

After news of his fleeing the country circulated following the incident at Ermengarde Mansion, Rebecca had initially thought she was seeing things when she had noticed him, dressed far more casually than the pressed suits she remembered him in before, sitting on a bench in the park months later. Luke had been watching Kylie Suarez playing with some neighborhood children, a pensive look on his face. Once she was sure, it was him, against her better judgment she had approached him, asking him if he was here to see his goddaughter. As much as she had disliked him on a personal level at the time, she knew he had an affection for the girl, which she returned. Since Luke’s flight, Kylie had asked many people, including her, where Tio Luke had gone and if she’d ever see him again. She knew the Suarez family probably wouldn’t appreciate her intervention. But those moments of vulnerability she had seen in Luke during their discussions of children, his soft spot for the little girl, and the knowledge that he wouldn’t try anything if she were there, she offered to help coordinate visits between the pair. If for Kylie’s sake, since she didn’t feel like Luke deserved any of the girl’s attention or adoration, but didn’t feel like she should be punished because of what he did, either.

And things had evolved from there. While their meetings were few and far between, as he was still in theory on the run and she had stepped away from teaching after finishing her book to pursue her academic career in earnest (and defend the information in her book from a skeptical public unwilling to learn the dark secrets of the esteemed history of one of Britain’s most idyllic, if small, cities), she continued to mediate secret “special” visits between Luke and Kylie. Her parents believed she was strictly under Rebecca’s care, as they knew she had also become fond of “Miss Pink” while at school and had been upset when she had stepped down from her teaching position before she could properly become her student. After delivering Kylie safely back to the care of her parents, instead of slipping back to wherever he came from, Luke stayed.

At first, Luke only stayed long enough to invite Rebecca to dinner or drinks (usually both, in his case), possibly his way of thanking her for risking her own reputation on his behalf. But things between them, and in general, had begun to change when Kylie Suarez suddenly disappeared. News that she had gone missing had rocked the city, and Rebecca would have suspected Luke of absconding with her had he not come charging into Luxbourne as soon as he heard, threatening fates worse than death to whoever was responsible. He hadn’t even tried to hide, risking being arrested or worse, as he came barreling in like a force of nature to demand answers from her parents, her brother, the Luxbourne Police, anyone he thought might be in a position to give them.

Answers never came. Although he went back into hiding, barely acknowledging his ex-wife or own children during his most public reappearance in the city, Luke still came back. Sometimes sitting at the park, like he expected to see Kylie there, playing and acting as if she had no idea why everyone was worried. Sometimes Rebecca would see him walking through the streets, usually on his way into or out of the Galway Shawl, his former haunt. Apparently, a place where he trusted the bartender and patrons enough, rightly or wrongly, to not turn him in as long as he paid up his tab. It was hard not to feel sorry for him, even knowing what a son of a bitch he could be, first hand and via what little Ashton had finally shared about him following their experience at the mansion before they also drifted further apart.

Rebecca knew she should be saving comfort and condolences for the Suarez family. And she did offer it, in abundance. Especially as they believed she had formed a special bond with their daughter (close enough for her to be briefly investigated and eliminated as a suspect in the disappearance, something she didn’t hold against the family as they exhausted all possible leads). She knew Luke should be feeling more remorse for his own children he’d pretty much abandoned than the goddaughter he wasn’t even really supposed to be in contact with. But he’d painted such a pathetic picture, and maybe it was what Isabella and Zach always accused of being her “motherly” side, but she felt even _he_ deserved some comfort at a time like this.

Offers of comfort turned into more time together, alone. Again, it was rare that they were in the city together. Although neither forgot about the missing Kylie, it didn’t take long for him to become the same old Luke she knew from before while they were together. He’d actually read her book, and although it was clear he didn’t have much interest in history, he’d offered her some pretty surprising and useful insight that she noted down for use in a future revised edition. She planned to release it once she’d compiled enough new information on Anslem, the Ermengardes, and the people in their lives, especially during Charlotte’s time.

As Rebecca learned quickly, Luke Wright could be incredibly charming when he wanted to be. Of course, where she was involved, he usually made sure she didn’t forget that he also knew how to get under her skin, and would insert just enough barbs to initiate a match of wills between the two.

As for how exactly they got to their current point… well, one night she had been drinking with him. Not totally drunk, but enough that she felt it best to leave her car keys at the bar and call for a taxi. Luke slid into the cab beside her. She’d asked him what he was doing, but when he pointed out he was just sharing a cab with her to pick up the fare for both of them, she’d decided to welcome this uncharacteristic show of chivalry. But as the cabbie pulled up at Salemwell and Luke paid, he also got out with her.

He hadn’t been aggressive. Thinking back to that night, Rebecca thought if she had told him to leave entirely, or just stay on the couch that night, he would have. But she’d stopped asking questions. At that point, she was unexpectedly tired. Not only physically, but tired of defending her research to the incredulous. Tired of the now months of worry over what had happened to Kylie Suarez. Tired of smiling and acting thrilled whenever she visited Zach, and he eagerly updated her on how happy he was with Hannah and every precious thing her children did when he was around. Even—no, _especially_ —tired of hearing about how Ashton and Isabella were living together now and seemed to be in for the long haul. She was alone and full of doubt, self-pity, and even self-loathing.

And there was Luke Wright, a man who did everything he could to hide it, but Rebecca knew he understood self-loathing probably better than anyone. She vaguely remembered in her psychology class learning that narcissism was paradoxically born of extremely low self-esteem, something she tended to keep in mind while interacting with him. So she’d wordlessly invited him in, and when he pressed himself to her for a kiss, she didn’t pull away, didn’t reject him. Didn’t cringe away like part of her wanted to.

Their first time together- her first time entirely- had been unforgettable for many of the wrong reasons. Sure, his skill had made her feel things she didn’t even know her body could feel. As it turned out, he didn’t consider a sexual encounter successful unless he was certain his partner also reached her climax, not out of chivalry but as a boost to his ego, so he knew he had the skills make women putty in his hands.

But Rebecca also remembered suddenly being very angry at herself that night. Feeling in need of punishment and not knowing why. Because she was jealous of her friends when she should feel happy for them? Because despite the years since she’d admitted to herself that her “one true love” was possibly an illusion born from a childhood crush, she still found herself getting a hitch in her throat and a sudden pounding of her heart when she thought about Ashton? Because she realized how pitiful that was?

At any rate, she’d found herself giving what she had hoped to save for her “Prince Charming” to Luke Wright, a man she expected to take it and run as he had boasted of doing with other women, usually in his more inebriated states. It was disgusting and incredible. She loved it and felt it was a fitting punishment for whatever she’d done wrong to end up here. She hated herself, and despite his bravado, she could feel how much he secretly hated himself, and somehow that made her feel better and worse.

And after that, it didn’t stop. Most every time they ran into each other in Luxbourne after that, for whatever reason he was still coming to the city, they inevitably ended up back at her apartment, for more of her chosen form of ecstasy and self-abuse.

And now, as Rebecca dared to look at Luke as he took his clothes and headed toward her bathroom to clean up, she tried to bring back the morning’s annoyance to drown out these thoughts. To keep from elaborating on how things had ended up this way.

“You say that, but you’re the one who keeps inviting me in,” Luke pointed out, at last, always needing to have the last word in any situation. And at the same time, he unwittingly (or was he somehow in tune with her current inner turmoil?) summed up the crux of her destructive need.

Rebecca was spiraling down, deep down, into something, and she wasn’t entirely sure what. All she knew was she was close to the bottom, and nothing good could await her there.

**Author's Note:**

> Extra special thanks to the Letter Discord server for encouraging me to do this, especially to Czarizard, one of the devs who fed me info when I asked for it along with her encouragement. Even more thanks to chanlyeya, who ultimately provided the human proofreading it desperately needed as my cat wasn't up to the task.


End file.
